


Lola

by charivari



Category: Original Work
Genre: Death, F/M, Gore, Survival, Telepathic Bond, Twins, Zombie Apocalypse, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 09:57:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5703421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charivari/pseuds/charivari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Australia. A zombie apocalypse. Laura Fitzgibbon, a survivor with a secret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lola

It was late afternoon when Laura Fitzgibbon reached the outskirts of Guyra. Like so many country towns it was deathly quiet, deserted, the smell of decay in the air signifying it too had not escaped the plague. A mutated form of rabies, it had quickly spread from Sydney across the nation, infecting most of the population, turning them into what the newspapers dubbed 'zombies'. What better term to call raging cannibalistic beings, snarling and uncompassionate, no sense of right or wrong, only hunger. Hunger for the flesh of the uninfected, their families, neighbors, politicians, mailmen. They didn't differentiate. Any healthy body they smelt out and sought to devour, as if trying to reverse their current state feasting on non-contaminated flesh.

Australia had been reduced to a third world country, abandoned and left to fend for itself. Cities burned, farms fell into disuse. Remains lay strewn on highways and beaches like grotesque ornaments. Nowhere was safe from the hordes of cannibals, all shelters and refuges were no match to their tenacity, their relentless hunger. Laura had watched safe havens fall like empires, their tenants decimated in one agonizing sweep. There was nothing to do but to move about, try to keep out of danger as best you could. Some prayed to God, America, China. Laura knew better. No one was coming to save them. God didn't exist or if He did, He was the cruel apathetic kind. As for the rest of the world it was more than likely they were experiencing the same kind of apocalypse.

Laura carried nothing more than a backpack of survival gear she had lifted from an outdoor store. Her mother and father she assumed dead. They had fallen sick, no doubt with the plague. Laura and her twin sister had travelled on the train from Armidale where they attended university, intending to take care of them. The train had been stopped by a military patrol. There had been vans waiting to take them to a quarantine area.

The sisters had protested, demanding to go to their parents. But the soldiers had shown no hesitation in using force. From the quarantine site, they had watched news footage of what looked like madmen racing through the streets with police trying to detain them. Lola had persuaded Laura to sneak away, try to locate their parents from the anarchy that was becoming Sydney. In the end they didn't even get close, running into zombies already moving north. For Lola that first encounter had been fatal.

Laura surveyed the street leading into town. It was too risky to venture in, not when it was getting dark and there was always a possibility it was infested with zombies. There was a farm house to her left. That would do for the night. She made her way down the dirt path, listening carefully for signs of movement, danger, but there was nothing to be heard except the wind ruffling the overgrown grass. She circled the house, made sure it was clear before heading back to front door. She tested the knob. The door wasn't locked though that only made her cautious. There was no telling who could have entered before her.

Laura clutched the butcher knife she favored when entering homes and opened the door slowly. A man came into view, so close that she jumped back, losing her footing and falling backwards. The man approached, red-stained baseball bat in hand. Zombies didn't use weapons and this man certainly didn't have the wild yellowing eyes and pale rotted appearance synonymous with the infected. He was human and therefore suddenly a potential ally.

"Stop," she cried, "I'm human."   

The man continued towards her with a dangerous expression.

"Have you been bitten?"

Laura shook her head,

"No."

The man regarded her skeptically. Laura followed his gaze and squirmed. There was a dark stain on her neck, hand-print shaped, she hadn't yet washed off.

"It’s just dirt."

"Bullshit!" the man barked, though a flash of uncertainty crossed his face.

"Look," Laura spat in her hand and rubbed at the stain, "Its dirt. I'm just dirty."

The man rubbed the back of his neck, looking indecisive.

"Please," Laura begged, "I'm not bitten and I need a place to stay, just for the night."

"Daddy," a voice wailed from above. Laura looked up to see a small girl leaning out the window. "Daddy!"

"Sophie," the man called, "Close the window. I'll be in a minute.”

The child scrunched up her face but nonetheless obeyed.  

"Daughter?" Laura asked softly.

The man nodded, looking sad and tired. The lines in face told of the struggle to keep his daughter alive.

"You... better come inside," he said, "Give me the knife first."

Laura hesitated. It was a risk giving up her means of protection. She had no idea who this man was. On the other hand it was almost dark and she needed a place to stay. He was a caring father. That seemed enough at this point to trust him. She handed him the knife. He took it, nodding for her to enter. He followed, knife sheathed in his belt and baseball in hand.

"Upstairs, first door to the right," he said.

Laura obeyed, suddenly a little regretful. Her back was an open target if she argued. As they made their way up the stairs a door opened on the left and Sophie emerged.

"Who is she Daddy?" she pointed at Laura.

"I'm Laura," Laura introduced herself with a smile.

The man made a disapproving noise. Obviously he didn't want his daughter and their visitor getting acquainted.

"Go back in your room Sophie," he said firmly, "I'll come and get you soon."

The girl's mouth wobbled in protest. But ultimately the look in her father's face made her scurry back into the room and close the door.

"Come on," the man said and Laura winced as the baseball bat prodded her.

The room in question turned out to be the bathroom. The man locked the door between them. The sound made Laura tense. The man stared at her with a severe expression.

"Undress," he said.

Laura's eyes widened and the word rape flashed in her mind. She looked desperately for a weapon, a window exit.

"Don't get the wrong idea," the man suddenly looked uncomfortable, "I just want to make sure you haven't been bitten."

Laura looked at him with reluctance. The man's face hardened somewhat.

"It's that or I send you back out there," he said.

Laura looked down at herself uncomfortably. She didn't have much of a choice then. She dropped her backpack and began unbuttoning her shirt. The man's eyes darted to the floor, proving his motives were sincere, not lechery. Laura removed her dirt-crusted boots and socks, wriggled out of her jeans.

"Okay?" she asked.

The man looked up and gulped like a schoolboy. How long had it been since he had seen a woman standing in her underwear? Laura couldn't say she looked anything remotely sensual with several days regrowth on her legs. The man blinked and seemed to refocus,

"Those too," he said, voice slightly trembling.

Laura cringed but complied, unhooking her bra and slipping her panties from her hips. The wild thicket of her pubis seemed to match her legs. For the first time since the apocalypse she felt ashamed of her appearance. The man showed more discomfort than repulsion, swallowing hard.

"Turn around," he mumbled.

Laura completed a slow circle. As soon as she came to face him, the man averted his gaze.

"All right I believe you," he said, "Sorry," he added as Laura bent to gather her clothes.

"It's okay," Laura shivered, holding her button-up shirt like a towel.

The man grunted.

"You can stay for the night," he said, "House runs on a tank water so you can take a bath if you want."

Laura broke into a grateful expression. A smile twitched on the man's lips. It made him seem a lot younger.

"I'll bring you some fresh clothes too," he said, turning.

"Thank you," Laura's voice made him look back over his shoulder, "What's your name?"

"Gawain."

Like the knight, Laura almost asked. Instead she offered her name again.

"Laura." 

Gawain nodded slowly. He suddenly seemed reluctant to leave. There was look in his eyes, of longing, loneliness. How long had it been since he had made love? The thought made her insides curl with desire. He was handsome in a bronzed rugged way. He looked underfed but there was strength in his arms, she could tell by the way he held the bat. The kind of arms capable of a reassuring embrace. She had the impulse to drop her shirt and approach him with open arms, let him hold her, fuck her.

But Gawain turned and left. Alone she stepped into the shower. The water was cold but nonetheless a luxury. There was soap and a razor, she washed and shaved, feeling brand new when she was done. Gawain hadn't returned with new clothes and she debated re-dressing in her old ones. She decided against it, discouraged by the stink. Wrapped in a towel she opened the door and discovered a pile of clothes. Gawain must have been reluctant to intrude on her shower. His decency brought a smile to her face.

The jumper and tracksuit pants were the kind a grandmother wore. They weren't exactly fashionable but comfortable and clean with a distinct smell of lavender. Shoving her old clothes into her backpack and twisting her damp hair into a bun, she went in search of her hosts. She found them in the kitchen. Gawain was dishing canned beans and vegetables onto three plates. He heard her arrival and gave her a more relaxed smile than before.

"Can I help?" she asked.

Gawain shook his head.

"It's almost ready. Sit."

Laura took a seat opposite Sophie who was absorbed in a deck of cards. After a moment she glanced up.

"Wanna play with me?" she asked.

"After dinner," Gawain cut over Laura's answer. He set a plate down in front of each of them and took a seat himself. Sophie mashed hers enthusiastically with her fork.

"Bleh," she said though proceeded to eat it anyway.

Laura was expecting blandness and was surprised by the taste of spices.

"This is good," she said, taking a more enthusiastic mouthful.

Gawain shrugged,

"It's okay. I work with what I have."

"You're a chef?" Laura guessed as she swallowed another mouthful.

Gawain stared sadly at his plate,

"Was. On the Gold Coast."

Questions formed on Laura's tongue. Had he and Sophie came all the way south from there? Had Queensland been overrun with zombies? Was this house a relatives? She glanced at Sophie, knowing this type of conversation wasn't appropriate for a child's ears and kept silent. Gawain didn't carry on the conversation either, finishing his meal in a similarly pensive mood. Sophie meanwhile hummed to herself, a tune that Laura couldn't quite name.

"I'll do that," she offered when Gawain rose to clean his plate.    

Gawain shook his head,

"No you play with Soph," he said.

Laura moved closer to Sophie who was bobbing excitedly. She wanted to play Go Fish. This was easy enough as Laura knew the rules. Still she let Sophie win, not caring much for competition. Gawain sat watching them with a sad kind of smile. Perhaps Sophie's mother had played with her this way. Her non-presence made Laura assume she was deceased. Several rounds later Gawain announced it was time for bed, at least as far as Sophie was concerned. The girl protested and her father allowed her one more round then definitely bed. Laura let her win again and Gawain swung Sophie up into his arms and carried her away.

Laura hesitated before following. Sophie's bedroom was more reminiscent of a teenagers, plastered with posters and photographs of people bearing no resemblance to the father and daughter. Laura listened by the door as Gawain recounted a bedtime story. She and Lola had always made up their own stories. The thought made her wince.

"Hey," Gawain's whisper startled her out of reverie. She shuffled back as he exited the room, leaving the door open. She supposed it was out of protectiveness, needing to be able to dash in and grab her if the worst happened.

She followed him into the next room, another bedroom. There are more photographs on the mantelpiece, spanning generations from black and white to color. Gawain didn't share her curiosity, rummaging around in a chest of drawers, producing a bottle of whiskey. He sat on the bed, took a swig and held it out to her. Laura wandered over to take it.

"Did you know these people?" she asked as she raised the bottle to her lips.

Gawain shook his head,

"No, place was deserted when we arrived. Maybe they figured someplace was safer," he gave a hollow laugh, "Not that there is."

"So Queensland?" Laura ventured.

"Zombies all over the place," Gawain said grimly, "Soph and I are lucky we made it out."

Laura pressed the whiskey into his hands and took a seat on the bed.

"I came up from Sydney."

Gawain took another swig.

"Family?" he asked softly.

"My parents were affected by the outbreak," Laura hesitated, "My twin..." 

She trailed off. Gawain stared at her with sympathy.

"What about you?" Laura asked, "Your wife..?"

"She died in a car crash," Gawain said, "Two years ago."

"    I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Gawain said, "She's luckier than the two of us, not having to live in this Hell."

He glared off into space. Laura placed a hand on his arm.

"We're alive, safe," she attempted positivity.

Gawain's head whipped around, expression frustrated but softening. Laura threw caution to the wind and kissed him. He kissed back, fiercely, abandoning the whisky bottle on the floor. Laura climbed on top of him and they fumbled with their clothing, clumsy, out of practice, desperate, hungry. It wasn’t safe sex or love-making, it was raw fucking, fucking away their frustrations, rough and satisfying. There was only gentleness in the aftermath. They curled up against each other like animals huddling against the elements. Laura fell asleep on his chest, waking at the sound pulsating through her head like electricity.

_Lauralauralauralaura..._

Her eyes opened wide in the dark, panic in her chest. Her twin had tracked her down and she was very, very close. Laura slipped away from Gawain, out of bed, to the window. She squinted out into the dark. She could just make out Lola and her brethren moving across the field, towards the house.

Stupid, Laura thought, stupid that she thought she could run from her zombie twin, the very person she shared a telepathic link.

_Lauralauralauralaura..._

"Gawain, get up," she shouted, racing over the bed.

He quickly sprung awake. The apocalypse had taught him to be a light sleeper. He read the look on her face, realized the danger.

"How many?"

"At least fifty," she said from memory, "Look you need to stay here, I'll..."

"Are you fucking insane," Gawain hissed, "They'll kill you. We need to stay in here, be absolutely quiet. The doors are locked, they can't get in and they'll go away."

"They won't leave without me," Laura blurted.

Gawain stared at her in incomprehension.    

"What?"

Laura sighed,

"One of them out there is my twin. Lola. I can hear her calling me."

Gawain gave her a look as if she was crazy.

"I know how it sounds but we've always been able to communicate this way," Laura told him, "Through our minds. When Lola was bitten I thought the link would be severed but it wasn't. I could still hear her, calling my name."    

Gawain grabbed her by the shoulders,

"You're hallucinating," he said, "Those things can't fucking talk."

"Lola can," Laura insisted, "To me. She tracked me north. Cornered me. I was about to k-kill her," her voice shook with memory, "But she didn't bite me. She came and rested her head on my shoulder, like she was trying to hug me."

Gawain was shaking his head in disbelief.

"The others she was with, they didn't bite me either. It was like I was one of them. Like Lola told them, or they could sense I was her twin. I travelled with them."

"That's insane," Gawain stammered.

"I know," Laura said, "But that's what happened. For a while I felt... safe. I know that sounds weird but they protected me. But after watching them... feed, over and over, the smell and gore just got too much. I ran away from them."

She sank onto the bed trembling.

"They obviously want me back," she looked towards the window.

_LAURALAURALAURALAURA..._

Her sister's voice was getting closer, more demanding. She sprung to her feet.

"I have to go to them," she told Gawain, "If I don't they'll tear the door down, find you, and Sophie."

She stepped towards the door. Gawain caught her arm.

"We have weapons," he said with determination.

Laura shook her head sadly,

"It won't be enough," she said, "I can't get you to risk your life. Sophie needs you."

Gawain opened his mouth. Laura quickly silenced him with a kiss.

"Thank you," she said, "For making me feel human again."

She kissed him again, savoring his taste.

"Go to Sophie and lock the door," she said, "Don't follow me. Promise."

Gawain stared her with conflicted eyes. Finally he nodded. He held her hand as they walked to Sophie's room.

"Bye Gawain," she hugged and kissed him one last time, made sure he closed the door.     

Alone she sadly shouldered her backpack and made her way to the front door.

_LAURALAURALAURALAURA_ , Lola bellowed.

Laura opened the door to find her twin standing on the porch. Back hunched, hair black and mangled, covering half her face while one yellow eye glared. She growled like a dog, anger evident.

"I'm sorry," Laura tried to appease her, "I'm sorry okay."

She approached her cautiously. Lola watched, face frozen in snarl, one eye never blinking. She stunk of decay and Laura did her best not to gag. She put a hand on her sagging shoulder.

_I'm sorry Lola_.

She tensed as Lola growled. But her head came to press against Laura's chest not in hostility but in acceptance. Laura placed a shaking hand on the top of her greasy head.

_Lauralauralauralaura_ , her twin purred like a happy cat.

"I love you too," Laura murmured, defeated.

The others had been standing in the front garden. They now moved onto the porch, pressing around her in some sort of greeting, choking her with their collective stench. A teenager in a Coles uniform with the name-tag Dwayne, purposely ground against her hip, growling in her ear. Lola gave a shriek of warning and he shuffled back, replaced by the white-haired grandmother who drooled onto Laura's shoulder while a boy, the youngest and dirtiest of them, buried his head in her crotch. The largest zombie, a giant of a man, loomed uncomfortably behind her. Laura grit her teeth, struggling to break free of the pack.

"Lola, let's go," she said.

Lola shuffled forward then stopped, nose in the air, eye alert.

_Fleshiefleshiefleshieflesh..._

To Laura's horror she made for the front door.

"No Lola stop," she yelled as Lola raked dirt-crusted nails on the door.

She scrambled to deter her only to be blockaded by the rest of the zombies making for the door.

"Stop," she cried uselessly as their combined weight surged against the door, "Stop!"

She pounded on their backs, shouting, tears in her eyes. But the door fell to their effort with a sickening crack. They rushed in, too fast and too many for Laura to stop. She sunk to her knees, hands over her ears, trying not to hear the sounds of slaughter. There is nothing she can do. The undead let her live, counted her as one of their own but she could not control them. Every other human was food and their hunger was relentless.

They did not emerge until they were sated, dripping with blood and gore. The boy shuffled out, intestines trailing from his clenched hand. Laura vomited over the side of the porch, sobbing and heaving, tears falling on the mess she had made below. Their deaths are her fault. She shouldn't have run away, shouldn't have taken refuge amongst them.  She shouldn't have tried to be one of the living. Lola came to nudge her with her blood coated mouth. Laura wanted to push her away in repulsion. Instead she dragged her closer. She couldn't fight anymore.

She belonged with the undead and among them, she had to stay.


End file.
